


Trouble comes in threes

by Alltheleviathans



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Geoffrey is miserable but finds reluctant comfort in reids voice in his head, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Vampire Geoffrey McCullum, but with vague mentions of both geoffrey/jonathan and edgar/jonathan, edgar tries to get a quiet life to work on his dumb ass experiments, geoffrey/jonathan/edgar is endgame but we'll see, mccullum knows edgars a vamp but edgar doesnt know mccullum is too, this is gonna be mainly geoffrey/edgar slowburn, vampire edgar swansea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alltheleviathans/pseuds/Alltheleviathans
Summary: A powerful ekon can communicate with their progeny through a psychic link. Unable to control this ability, a young ekon might often barrage their progeny with thoughts that are not their own.It's been a year since Geoffrey McCullum and Edgar Swansea had been Turned. Both have learned to live with their new condition in different ways. When they suddenly can't hear the voice of their Maker anymore, they team up to try and figure out what happened to Jonathan Reid.
Relationships: Edgar Swansea/Geoffrey McCullum, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid/Edgar Swansea, Jonathan Reid/Edgar Swansea
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be my first fanfic for Vampyr, I hope you enjoy it. I don't know how often I'll be uploading but who knows.

All things considered, doctor Swansea was very content with how things had turned out. Almost ten years he’d spent serving as the administrator of the Pembroke Hospital. He had cared deeply about his staff, was passionate about helping the people of London, but had perhaps become a bit too comfortable up in that large office. Despite all that, he had been the first to propose its closing. During the epidemic and the war, its need was undeniable. But as the surviving soldiers returned home, the cases of the flu quickly started to deplete, and other hospitals opened their more preserved doors once more, the glaring problems with his own institution became all the more apparent. This, and having their main sponsor seemingly disappear into thin air, there was little hope for The Pembroke. It closed its doors in 1919. 

It was better this way, he had told nurse Branagan, who had insisted on helping him with the last of closing formalities. A miserable place it had been, really. She had solemnly agreed, but Edgar hadn’t missed the concerning glances she’d thrown at him throughout the evening’s work. 10 years they had given to this ghost of a building. Not that she would realize, but that didn’t seem quite as long to him now that his heart wasn’t beating as it should.

(It was for the best, because if Elizabeth had returned she would have probably killed him for what he had done. He couldn’t deny he would have deserved it.)

His parents had owned a considerable estate not too far out of London. He had inherited it after their death, but had never found the time nor the desire to retire to the countryside, nor had he had any time for vacation. Now, with time on his side and so many questions his newfound immortality could help answer, a quiet mansion within a reasonable distance of London was more than perfect.

He was reminded of Dracula, an amusing thought that had lifted his spirits during the overnight train ride. Even if he did consider himself more of a doctor than a count.

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the disarray the building had been in when he arrived. But his memories had played tricks on him. That’s what they often did, making you believe 20 years wouldn’t deform any place. Still, he kept his head up. All things considered, if this was the only setback he would face, he was very content with how things had turned out.

The vampire wanders through forgotten hallways that smell of rotting wood and piles of dust. He remembers vague memories of his mother’s voice telling him not to run. That he would fall and break something. He doesn’t have many memories of his parents, busy as they always were. He does remember reading in his room, remembers following the pattern of the long carpet that now has more holes than rug. Remembers one maid’s scream as a darkened figure bites into her neck. Remembers how fascinated he had been with the way the shadowed stranger had just turned into smoke, even with the woman's body at his feet.

He didn’t remember the maid’s name. But his morbid fascination with the murder he had witnessed shaped his formative years. Made him into the man he is today. (He wonders if that Ekon is still out there, somewhere, if he could find them if he looked hard enough, or if they had been killed by Priwen during the second Great Hunt.)

He sets his things up in what used to be his father’s study. The room that had been saved the most of time’s cruelties as far as he could tell. A painting of the late mr. Swansea lays on the floor behind the rotting desk when he enters, a tear through the middle. It makes Edgar realize he had nearly forgotten what he had looked like. He wonders if that will inevitably happen to everyone in his memories, now that he is immortal.

He tries to hang it back where it seems to have fallen from, but it only takes a day before it is on the floor again, the tear larger. He decides to keep it on top of one of the armoires, for safekeeping.

Time passes, Edgar fills his days with his experiments. There is so much left that he can learn from his condition and quite literally unlimited time. He only goes out to visit a nearby village for supplies he may need. The salesman tells him he has no idea what most of the things on the list he hands him are. And really, sir, we should have already closed an hour ago. A policeman questions him when he wanders the streets a bit longer. You look like a decent fellow, he says, but this is a small town and a stranger asking for strange substances at night raises suspicion.

Edgar tries to explain, but gets distracted by the beating of the man’s heart. He tries to listen to his response, tries to not blatantly stare at his neck but it’s dark and there’s no one else around and the beating of his heart is so loud and he suddenly feels so  _ thirsty _ .

He doesn’t go back to the village after that.

The house feels much too large for him. He doesn’t bother trying to clean more than just his father’s study. His own theories and trials fill his mind most of his waking hours. But sometimes, in quieter moments, he finds himself missing the chaos of The Pembroke. He even misses yelling at McCullum. He misses the conversations with Lady Ashbury over tea. Misses Elizabeth, misses tea. Wonders if she’s with Jonathan now. God, he misses Jonathan too. 

Sometimes, he hears his voice. In his dreams, mostly, it only makes him miss him more.

* * *

All things considered, Geoffrey McCullum is very unhappy with how things turned out. 

He would’ve already been unhappy with Reid getting away without having to pay for what he’d done to London. Would have been unhappy about reading that Swansea had returned to the hospital like nothing had happened. 

Being turned into a leech himself wasn’t the shitty icing on an already shitty cake, it was the entire shitty course.

He didn’t return to Priwen, couldn’t expect his boys not to shoot him on sight. He’d trained them well, after all. Too well, it seemed, as even without him the second Great Hunt still carried on. Geoffrey stayed in London a while, slayed (other) vampires on his own, pretended that he wasn’t one of them now. It would be easier if Reid’s voice didn’t fill his mind. Was he going mad or was that part of being a leech? Maybe he should have listened better to Swansea when they used to argue in that hospital. No, the day he believes that is the day he truly goes mad.

Every time he goes to sleep, he is plagued by the same voice. One he knows well enough, but loathes even more. The very leech that damned him to this fate to begin with.

He hates everything about his new ‘condition’. Even more than he hates the voice in his head. Sometimes he spots rats scurrying around, at one point he considered drinking its blood, he is disgusting. He hates himself.

He knew all of Priwen’s patrols by heart, so it really wasn’t hard to sneak past them every night. Especially when there started being less and less of them around. Whether this was because of his absence or the end of the epidemic, he had no way of knowing. London had enough abandoned buildings for him to hide in when the sun rose.    
  
He misses the sun.    
(Had he mentioned he hates this?)

Geoffrey hadn’t realized he’d fallen into a routine until it was disrupted. The voice in his head had become a steady truth. He would never admit it, but the regularity of it had become a reassuring presence. Something he knew always happened. The grass is green, the sky is grey, Jonathan Reid’s voice proclaims nonsense in his brain. 

It’s when he wakes up from a night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep that he feels uneasy. The absence of something that was such a steady truth feels unnatural. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous. That there is no one ever that would feel weird about not hearing a voice in their head. That it probably has nothing to do with where Reid is or what he’s doing. He wouldn’t care either way.

But still, the feeling of something missing doesn’t go away. And it feels as though the silence itself is mocking him. Maybe he does feel lonely without it. Maybe having no one around him is taking a toll on him. He hasn’t spoken to anyone since the last time he saw Reid in that cemetery. How could he, after what that leech had done to him? There was no one that he could confide in now. No one who could understand his irrational unease with the absence of that stupid fucking voice in his head.

When everyone else sees the grass blue, how do you explain how unsettling it is when you see it not green?

There is one person that he knows would, in an ironic twist of fate, be able to understand him. It all felt like a bad joke that just wouldn’t reach its lackluster punchline, but through his loneliness and desperation, he did go to visit the hospital. He was certain Swansea would laugh at him for his current conundrum, and he really didn’t know how to bring up the absence of Reid’s voice without making it sound like he actually cared about the damned bastard, but it was better than drowning in self-pity.

Except, the gates were closed, and there wasn’t any nurse or doctor in sight. Closed, a passerby said, to be torn down. 

This was all one big joke.

“Wait!” Geoffrey yelled to the passerby, who in his moment of thought had already begun walking away. The man halted and turned, a curious look on his face. “Yes?” He asked, now that he took a proper look at him, McCullum noted his short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He was wearing a slightly weathered light brown suit. There was something familiar about him, had he seen him before when he came to the hospital?   
  
“Do you know what happened to the man who used to run this place?” The hunter asked sheepishly. The stranger raised his brows and looked him over. “Doctor Swansea? I’m not sure. I heard he left London, sorry.” He shrugs. “You might have better luck down the street, with nurse Branagan. The number is 145. She’s got a room there.” He points off into the distance. Geoffrey frowns but nods. “But I’d be quick, I don’t see much reason for her to stick around either, now that she’s unemployed.”

“Uh, thank you....” McCullum trails off. 

“Newton.” The stranger finishes, a kind smile on his face.   
“Newton.” McCullum agrees.

Newton nods, then with a quick “Good luck.” Walks off. Another figure seems to be waiting for him further ahead. Geoffrey turns towards where he’d pointed.

* * *

“There’s still Bartholomew, we don’t have to leave the city.”   
“Do you really think they would hire now, after the war? The pandemic?”   
“I suppose you’re right.”   
“I don’t mean to be harsh with you, dear, everybody’s still licking their wounds. Our best chances are to get away now that we can.”   
“No, you are right. You were always more insightful.”

A quick knock at the door interrupts their conversation. Corcoran Tippets and Gwyneth Branagan glance towards it, then throw each other a meaningful look over half-packed suitcases. 

Geoffrey stands outside the humble home, impatiently scratching his beard as he waits. The door opens with a creak, an older woman with round glasses and a stern look on her face opens the door slightly, just enough to peer out.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking him up and down. Geoffrey recognizes her as one of the nurses from the Pembroke. Her deep frown makes him wonder if she recognizes him too. “Aye, I’m trying to find Edgar Swansea. I was told you might have an idea?” She squints her eyes at him and seems to hesitate. “Why?” She asks, suspicion dripping off her tone. She definitely recognizes him. He supposes it’s only fair, from her perspective at least. She can’t possibly have all the information.

“I need to find him.” He reiterates. Geoffrey had never been good at expressing his emotions, but he tries to speak with as much conviction as he can muster. Her frown deepens, she glances inside as a male voice speaks. He can’t quite make out what is said. She glances down at a pocket watch, then back at him.

With a sigh, she concurs. “He left London, towards Tenenbaum. Take the train north-west. He mentioned owning some house there.” She explains quickly. “And sir, I worry for him. Try not to make it worse.” With that, she closes the door abruptly and Geoffrey is, once again, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Honestly who thought Pembroke was gonna stay open after ashbury's disappearance. Her money and the desperation of the epidemic was the only thing keeping that place going.  
> \- I have a lot of headcanons abt swansea's family and how he grew up so buckle up bitches.  
> \- vague appearances from some minor npcs i enjoy. I always wanted to write little one shots where they get their happy endings, might still do that after this.  
> \- McCullum is Miserable and Lonely. He cares about Reid deep down, but wouldn't ever admit it even to himself. He also has better self control when it comes to blood than Swansea does. But that's born from his hatred of anything vampire.  
> \- Tenenbaum is a made up place don't worry about it.
> 
> my discord is Lev#3683 if you want to come yell at me


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCullum finds Swansea. They're both confused.

Edgar Swansea would like to think of himself as a positive force in the world. He tries not to think about that mortal he killed. He feels like he spends a lot of time not thinking about things he has done. Maybe now is not the time to start either. He goes back to what he had been doing. Finds that it’s harder to take blood from himself than it had been on somebody else. Or perhaps he just misses the conversations he and Lady Ashbury used to have during moments like this. His mind does not wander to the events of a year prior. He does not think about the blood he injected into his patient. Least of all does he think about all the deaths that followed because of this decision.

Deep down, he knows he should. Jonathan had told him, when he gifted him this immortality, that it had been a punishment. That he would not escape the guilt of what he had done so easily. He does not think about this. Does not wonder if that is the reason he hasn’t heard his dear friend’s voice in his head for the past few days. The feeling of being rejected still stung.

Swansea had always been a positive person, and really, how could he not have thought his newfound immortality to be a wonderful gift? If he thinks about it any other way, he might fall into that guilt Jonathan had wanted him to consider. Might actually start contemplating how many people suffered because of him. He doesn’t know if he would be able to take that. So he simply doesn’t let himself. He is a positive person, mortality or not.

The violent crash of a window breaking besides him startles him out of any thoughts he may or may not be having. The flames of the candles he had on his father’s desk flicker and die out as the chilly night air enters the room. In stunned confusion, he slowly raises from his chair. A rock lay innocently on the carpet, surrounded by shards of glass. Edgar peers out the window, careful not to get cut by any remaining shards.

“...McCullum?”

He hadn’t known what to expect, but the hunter had certainly not been high up on the list. What in the world was he doing here? How did he find this place?

“Open the door!” He yelled.   
“It is open!” Edgar yelled back. The old locks wouldn’t have worked, even if he had had the key.  
McCullum groaned in frustration. “Just- Come down!” He yelled, then stormed off towards the front of the house. Edgar watched him go, still wholly confused about his appearance here in the first place. Does he know he is a vampire? Has he finally come to kill him? Was he so dedicated that he’d seek him out all the way out here? He really couldn’t put it past the man, he’d always been an overzealous fanatic.

Still, it wouldn’t make sense for him to so blatantly let his presence be known if he did plan to kill him. And even if he was, well, there was really no point in delaying the inevitable. Edgar turned his back to the window, looking around at the glass shards that now littered the carpeted floor. After a moment of hesitance, he left the room, down the hall and towards the front door.

Despite the wooden door being bigger than a usual home’s was, it opened only a sliver to allow Edgar to peer out of it. Sure enough, the man who was impatiently tapping his foot and glancing around was none other than Geoffrey McCullum. But as he turned towards him, now face to face, it suddenly dawned on him why he couldn’t just enter his home as it is. A conflicted expression crossed his face. The doctor wasn’t quite sure whether he should laugh at the man or feel bad for him. 

It seemed his change in demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the other, as his expression changed into something more akin to shame as he approached. His previous concerns forgotten, Edgar opened the door for him. 

“What happened?” He asked in a soft tone. This seemed to reignite McCullum’s frustrations. “What happened?!” He repeated angrily, mockingly imitating his accent. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know, you and that leech conspired against me from the beginning.” Swansea frowned in something that was infuriatingly close to pity. “Don’t look so condescending.” McCullum grumbled.

“I didn’t know.” Edgar insisted. “But it is interesting. I take it you didn’t undergo this willingly?” He asked, Geoffrey didn’t bother answering, except for the hateful glare that seemed to speak for itself. “Yes, I see. Come inside.” Swansea took a step to the side, opening the door further in what was a clear invitation. McCullum did step inside, but didn’t stop his glaring.

Edgar closed the door behind him, then turned to find Geoffrey awkwardly looking around. He seemed entirely uncomfortable with the situation, and he could hardly blame him. Swansea had a lot of questions himself. There was so much left unsaid between them. The silence went on for a while as he tried to find what to ask first.

“You didn’t have to break the window.” He instead stated quite bluntly. Geoffrey turned to him with a look of confusion, at least he had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed about it. “I didn’t mean to.” He grumbled under his breath. “I saw the candle light, Just wanted to get your attention. Guess I underestimated me throwing arm.” 

Edgar nodded, he wasn’t actually upset about it. The building was already falling apart. One broken window more or less didn’t really matter. “Are you not used to your vampiric strength yet?” He asked and immediately knew it hadn’t been the right thing to say when McCullum’s expression turned sour once more. 

“This is all your fault, you know that?” He gestured towards him in an accusatory manner. “If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be fucking miserable right now. And what, you just get to sit comfortably up in this big fancy house? What the fuck is all this?”

Edgar shook his head. “You don’t have to be miserable, McCullum. I get that this must be hard for you but I really think this could be a great opportunity-” The other’s sarcastic laugh cut him off. “That’s real fucking easy for you to say, isn’t it? I bet this is what you always wanted. You never had any problems putting leeches over living god damned people.”

“That isn’t- I devoted my life to healing.” Swansea responded defensively.  
“You devoted your life to being played for a fool without a backbone.”   
“At least my solution wasn’t senselessly murdering people in the streets!”  
“Without you we wouldn’t have needed a solution!”  
This seemed to shut Swansea up, as he scrambled to find a response, his expression turned uncharacteristically conflicted.

That didn’t seem to deter Geoffrey. “You should be the one that’s God damned miserable. In fact, you should be six feet under ground. We both would be if there were any God left in this fucking world.” Bitterly, he continued. “I should’ve known that leech would turn you. I should’ve let my men kill you as soon as I had proof of your conspiracy.”

A beat of silence fell over them as Swansea’s expression returned to one of confusion. This definitely wasn’t what Geoffrey had been expecting in response to his accusations.  
“You didn’t know?” Edgar asks, uncertain.  
“What?” He responds, still agitated but with a quirked eyebrow.  
“They did, actually, well, kill me.” As Edgar explains, he walks past the other, putting some space between them by walking further into the building. “Jonathan saved me by Turning me. But if he hadn’t been there…” He trails off, recounting the unpleasant memory with a grimace. Becoming a vampire was something he had always secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, longed for, but that certainly hadn’t been a pleasant way to go about it. He was still eternally grateful to his ex-colleague and well, Maker. Though he’d rather not ponder the memory more than necessary.

Judging by McCullum’s vacant stare, this was all news to him. The silence between them dragged on as his facial expression journeyed between several emotions. Edgar felt himself becoming more nervous as the air around them edged into one of awkwardness. He sighed to break the silence, then spoke up, much to the other’s surprise.   
“Why did you come here, McCullum?” He asked solemnly. If he wanted to kill him, why hadn’t he done so already? “I doubt you are here for the nostalgia our bickering brings.” Reluctantly, Geoffrey turns his eyes to him again. He seems to hesitate for a moment before he speaks up. “It’s about Reid.” He admits.

“Jonathan?” Swansea clarifies, Geoffrey rolls his eyes but nods. Realization dawns on the doctor’s face. “He hasn’t been speaking to you either, has he?” He only shakes his head. “You don’t think something bad happened… Do you?” there’s uncertainty in his voice as he speaks. McCullum throws his hands up with frustration. “I don’t know! I thought maybe you would know more! This is your- your thing!” He exclaims, gesturing wildly towards the other. Maybe coming here had been a mistake after all. He should’ve known Swansea wouldn’t be of any use. 

Edgar frowns as he thinks it through. “The last I heard of him was that he was going to Scotland, but that was… Dear, that must’ve been over a year ago now.” He ponders, then sighs. “I tried writing to him, but he never responded. We- we didn’t leave on the best of terms.” He adds sheepishly. 

“Trouble in paradise?” McCullum asks mockingly, though the joke seems to be lost on Swansea. “It’s a long story.” He responds vaguely, shrugging when the other frowns in suspicion. “I didn’t think you came here to discuss my relationship with Jonathan.” 

“Right.” Geoffrey responds, not even trying to hide the suspicion in his voice, then continues. “You said you wrote him, so that means you have an address?” Edgar nods. “Well, like I said, he never responded, so I can’t say for certain that he is or ever actually was there.” With both Jonathan’s and lady Ashbury’s disappearance it hadn’t been difficult for him to put two and two together and get an idea of where he was going. Not that he ever had any intention of following them, he was still terrified at the concept of having a confrontation with her ladyship. “A mutual friend of ours owns an estate there, I have reason to believe that’s where he went when he fled London.”

“You think he might still be there though?” Geoffrey asks and crosses his arms.  
“Why? You’re not thinking of going there, are you?” Swansea questions, uncertain.  
“So what if I am?” He responds defensively.  
“Why do you care?”  
“I don’t. Why don’t you?”

Edgar squints at his response, weighing whether it’s worth starting another argument about. Of course he cares. If something bad really did happen to Jonathan, of course he’d want to go help him. Geoffrey scoffs and shakes his head when he takes too long to answer. “I don’t need your help, anyway.” He says suddenly. “I just need the address. I can do the rest on my own.” 

“Wait, no. I do care. If you really think something happened to him I-  
I want to help.” He protested. He didn’t like the idea of Geoffrey going to find Jonathan on his own, if something happened and he wasn’t there… He’d rather not contemplate the possibility. McCullum pondered his response, looked him over with skepticism clear on his features. What he would never admit, certainly not out loud, is that really, it had been kind of nice to talk to somebody again. Even if it was him of all people. Even if most of their conversation had consisted of arguing and throwing around accusations.

“Fine.” He said. “But you’re still a leech, don’t think I won’t hesitate to put you down if I need to. And stop fucking smiling.”  
“Sorry.” Despite the apology, a slight smile remained on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Honestly who thought Pembroke was gonna stay open after ashbury's disappearance. Her money and the desperation of the epidemic was the only thing keeping that place going.  
> \- I have a lot of headcanons abt swansea's family and how he grew up so buckle up bitches.  
> \- vague appearances from some minor npcs i enjoy. I always wanted to write little one shots where they get their happy endings, might still do that after this.  
> \- McCullum is Miserable and Lonely. He cares about Reid deep down, but wouldn't ever admit it even to himself. He also has better self control when it comes to blood than Swansea does. But that's born from his hatred of anything vampire.  
> \- Tenenbaum is a made up place don't worry about it.
> 
> my discord is Lev#3683 if you want to come yell at me


End file.
